


Inhale. Exhale.

by accidentalpasserby



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Triggers, You Have Been Warned, any tag is a spoiler, not really shippy, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:05:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalpasserby/pseuds/accidentalpasserby
Summary: Inhale. Exhale.Run.----------------------------------------------------------------------------Not really shippy, but it's kinda there, so...Also, i may or may not have an extra snippet to go with this to soothe the painAnd also, TRIGGERS, but i can't tag them because they are also spoilers.





	Inhale. Exhale.

**Author's Note:**

> Any grammar and/or inadequate use of english is caused by my insomnia and lack of practice  
> Sorry

His whole life consisted of running.

Destination was always teasingly close to keep him going, keep him pushing his limits. Pit stop, one more achievement unlocked on the way to the grand prix of the everlasting race.

They say, there's no rest for the wicked. Ironically enough it became one more reason for him to fight against all odds. There was rest for the wicked and from the Wicked. No temporary shelter, but a safety zone where they can finally stop conquering death. He was sure, that there must have been something worth the effort. Inhale. Exhale. Run. That's what his motto was. Inhale. Exhale. Run. Fight. Keep breathing even if the pain suffocates you. There's no time for tears and grief, none there's for licking the wounds either. He had to face all the horror, even if he was bleeding sorrow. Who knew the toughest part was the aftermath? Inhale. Exhale. Live. Now he has to be strong for those, who cannot. Has to help them face the new life, free of suffering. He has led them here and he has to help them let go of the horrors of the ordeal they've endured. But how can he possibly do it, if his heart, once beating with passion and hope, is now left frozen over somewhere with the person he held dear? Left with the one, who's not coming back. Inhale. Exhale. No signal. No new race for him. No new beginning. Just the void inside of his chest to remind of the hollowness of the world, where almost everyone he has ever loved are dead. 

***

Thomas leaves his cabin. The full moon shines in the ink blue sky, casting it's silver light on the safe heaven. So silent, so peaceful.  
Another lonely night to spend in miserable attempts to fall asleep. Weeks after weeks, a smiling mask on his face during the day and the grief eating him at night, insomnia as his companion.

No one can really forget, no one should, but everyone have to move one. In honor of those, who didn't make it.

Thomas smiled bitterly. He got better at pep talks. Pity, he fails to follow his own advice. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

The chilly salty air filling his lungs, almost too pure and fresh after all the dust and heat.  
Maybe, a run will exhaust him enough for his mind to finally slip into unconsciousness. 

Just one more run. 

His body resists at first, too weak to move, but his determination once more is the necessary fuel.  
Feet sinking in the sandy beach. Unstable and wobbly from sleep deprivation and lack of exercise, Thomas continues to run. Soon his muscles remember. Steady once again, he runs through the forest, having no idea where he's going. 

Whatever. Like he ever knew. 

The only difference is that then he had had some hope to hold onto and no time to catch his breath. Now he has plenty of time to breathe but no reason to do so.  
All these deaths were his fault and of all of the people involved in this fight he was the only one deserving to die.

He ran forward, to the clearing. Once he got out of the woods, he saw the path going on to the edge of the cliff and ending there. 

Thomas didn't feel like stopping or searching for another way this time. 

Such a weird destination for him to choose.  
Of all the seemingly endless paths, of all of the opportunities, he has chosen the one, which made no sense.

Running for his life for so long.  
Fighting to stay alive. 

For what?

Inhale. Exhale. 

Determination. The pure spirit of the speed. Running on the top of his abilities, pushing the limits.  
Excitement and adrenaline. 

And also serenity. 

One more time.

And then no more runs. 

One jump. 

His legs leave the ground. 

Drugged with emotional overload, he watches the world spiraling in swirls of black, blue and silver, salty breeze tangled in his hair, blood rushing to his ears and air getting pushed out of his lungs. 

Inhale. One last time. 

The moment, that lasted an eternity.  
And then the water filling everything. 

Thomas felt like he was drowing in tears he once had shed. The run and the jump suddenly becoming a stupid metaphor for his life after getting out of the Box. One huge metaphor of his life's essence, exaggerated to the extreme. 

Exhale.

***

He opened his eyes.

Everything was illuminated with sunlight, white and painful to watch at, though not burning on his skin, but warm and tender.  
Someone appeared before him, the sun turning stranger's tousled hair into a golden halo. Porcelain skin almost luminous, smooth like marble. Contasting dark eyes glistening with tears.  
Eutheral view. 

Thomas didn't notice himself rising into sitting position. His mind foggy, thoughtsand memories tangled, everything unclear.  
Two hands landed on his chest, helping him to lie back. The touch burned on his skin, something so familiar, but long lost and therefore bittersweet. 

\- Bloody idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the work too


End file.
